It's a Kind of Magic Part II: Aye, There's the Rub
by praemonitus praemunitus
Summary: So now Danny has been stripped of his magical abilities and is adjusting to life as a mere powers-free mortal. But is there a downside to no longer having access to Life Force? He's about to find out.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N And so t****he story continues. If any of you had any doubts as to whether things were going to go smoothly for Danny after his loss of powers, let me put those doubts to rest :) I always try to cook up a good serving of whump (yes, mostly Steve's - it's my weakness) with a healthy side of angst. So, yeah...**

******T**hank you all so much for the wonderful, encouraging comments on the first part of this story arc! I hope you enjoy the sequel as well. 

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Chapter 1

Nothing good lasts forever. Not with his track record. Danny was adjusting to being a non-sentient, both emotionally and physically. And it was working for him, it really was. The vial that sentient Koehler had given him lay forgotten in the glove compartment of his Camaro, and the new pill bottle that he bought at the magic shop on Ni'ihau was still over half full, as he no longer needed those pills more often than once every other week or so. Like the proverbial lamb, blissfully ignorant of his impending doom, he naively believed that everything would, indeed, work out; that his loved ones would not be affected by his sudden and irreversible loss of powers; that things would just go back to normal. ... Poor, naive fool. He should have known better.

His blissful world came crashing brutally down exactly two months after that fateful night on Steve's beach. Just when he was finally getting used to living without the constant whisper of Life Force in his ear, and the forced silence stopped being the oppressive, tormenting weight it was in the beginning, turning gradually into an acceptable and even pleasant norm.

It began prosaically with a phone call. Caller ID said _Rachel_, and Danny answered distractedly, his gaze fixed on the second storey apartment he and Steve have been staking out in the hopes of catching the elusive Keanu Aulii – a small-time thief, who may have become an accidental witness to the murder of an antiques shop owner, whose body was found dumped into the Kailua Bay. Spooked by the either the act of the murder itself or by the perpetrator, Keanu went into hiding and, according to his landlady, Mrs. Puahi, hasn't been back to his apartment for the past two days. That last point was particularly upsetting to Mrs. Puahi, as Keanu apparently also owed her the last month's rent.

Steve was convinced, however, (and Danny was in full agreement with him on that point) that Keanu was merely biding his time, waiting for the ever-vigilant and very nosy Mrs. Puahi to let her guard down, so he could sneak into his own apartment undetected. Steve was determined to wait him out, and so was Danny.

Until the phone call. Until Rachel's choppy, sobbed out words reached his case-focused mind, and his breath froze in his lungs, the phone tumbling carelessly from his suddenly nerveless fingers. Pale and shaking he turned to his partner, meeting the latter's penetrating, worried gaze.

"There's been... an accident," he mumbled, his tongue feeling heavy and foreign in his mouth. "Grace's car... Rachel just got a call. I –"

"Which hospital?" Steve's voice was tight and calm, too calm under the circumstances, and Danny felt a rush of irrational anger bubble up inside him. _Because how __**could**__ he act so fucking calm, when his baby girl was – _ But then he caught his friend's eye, and his anger disappeared just as quickly, for the naked fear he saw reflected there mirrored perfectly the nearly overwhelming panic that had twisted his own gut into a nauseatingly painful knot.

"Queens," he rasped out then, his mouth dry as the cracked desert floor, and the shaky whisper was all Steve needed. In the next breath the black Camaro was already racing toward the hospital, their murder investigation and the elusive Keanu all but forgotten.

They didn't talk along the way. Danny's throat had completely closed up in worry, and he couldn't bring himself to talk even if he wanted to. And Steve – Steve was too busy concentrating on the road, because at the speed with which he was driving any distraction, no matter how minute, could have resulted in them being wrapped around the closest light pole. And if he was squeezing the wheel a tad too tightly that could always be explained away by the same need for concentration and control.

Ten hair-raising minutes later the Camaro burst into the hospital parking lot, tires smoking, as Steve pulled it into a sharp, sideswiping stop in front of the emergency room entrance.

"You go ahead," he nudged, giving Danny's shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "I'll find a place to park and come find you." And Danny nodded mutely, throwing him a look of pure wide-eyed panic before stumbling hurriedly out of the car.

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

He spotted Rachel almost immediately standing over by the window, arms clasped tightly around her middle, as she stared unseeing out into the crowded parking lot. He hurried over, his heart thudding louder and louder in terrified anticipation.

"Rach?"

She twisted away from the window, turning her tear-stained face toward him, and Danny felt his insides turn to ice at the despair and anguish he saw there.

"Oh, god, is Grace–?" he didn't finish the phrase, couldn't make his mouth form the words, even as the thought itself made it impossible to suck in a breath.

Rachel, bless her heart, understood what he was thinking and hurried to reassure him as much as it was possible under the circumstances. "Still in surgery, as far as I know," she spoke, shaking her head grimly. "I haven't heard anything yet."

"Do you know what- ... do you know how-?" he stammered, dropping heavily into a nearby chair, his legs no longer feeling steady enough to support him.

The Brit crossed slowly the short distance between them, settling stiffly in a chair next to him. "The policeman that called me said it was a single-vehicle accident. They are still investigating the cause."

"Single-vehicle?" Danny straightened out at that, staring at her in wide-eyed disbelief. "**Single. Vehicle**?!" His voice rose a few octaves, but he didn't care. Fear and panic had him wound up so tightly that it was only a matter of time before he exploded, and once he began, once the floodgates broke open and fear poured out, mutated into helpless, almost hysterical anger, he couldn't stop. Bolting from his seat, fingers running agitatedly through his hair, he whirled on his ex, paying no heed to the waiting room's other occupants.

"I've seen enough police reports. The words 'single-vehicle accident' are usually followed by 'excessive speed' and 'teenage drivers' or, better yet, 'drunks'. And we are not talking about a drunk or teenage driver here, Rachel. We are talking about a $100 an hour personal chauffeur, whom you and your fancy husband hired to drive our daughter to and from school, so you don't have to take the time out of your busy yoga and afternoon tea filled schedule to do it yourself."

Rachel paled considerably, her lips tightening in indignation, as she rose to refute him. Yet a loud and weary "Family of Grace Williams?" interrupted her before she had a chance to speak.

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TBC

**A short teaser to set up the action to come. I'd love to hear your thoughts. It might go the way you think, and then again you might get pleasantly (or unpleasantly) surprised :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Please forgive this chapter. I wrote it at 2 in the morning with very little sleep the night before. I sincerely hope it makes sense. Any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Mea culpa.**

**Thank you to all who were kind enough to leave a comment. I didn't have a chance to reply to you individually, but I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate them. They keep me writing :)**

**To the Guest reviewer who asked about Grace's age. This story is set some time in Season 4 (before Grover becomes member of 5-0). I hope that answers your question.**

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**Chapter 2**

A phone call caught him just as he was pulling the car into park on a side street, having grown frustrated with several unsuccessful attempts at finding a free space in the hospital lot.

"McGarrett," he snapped without even bothering to look at the display, his worry for Grace and, by extension, Danny making him testy.

"Commander McGarrett," a vaguely familiar voice came over the line, "this is Ella Puahi... from Makana Hale apartments..." There was an expectant pause, as she waited for some sort of an acknowledgment on Steve's part.

He sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Yes, Mrs. Puahi," he spoke, trying valiantly to keep impatience out of his voice. "What can I do for you?"

"They were here," the voice on the other end slipped into conspiratorial whisper.

"They?" Steve echoed distractedly, already pushing his door open.

"That Aulii fellow and there was someone else with him. A tall local fellow; lots of tattoos. I haven't seen him around here before. I would have come closer, but I think he had a gun on him."

Steve froze mid-movement, hand gripping the phone just a tad tighter. "You did the right thing staying away, Mrs. Puahi. We don't want you putting yourself in danger. Did you happen to notice anything–?"

"I wrote down their license plate," she interrupted him proudly, and Steve shook his head, smirking in impressed wonder, as he patted his pockets in search of something to write with. "Just a sec." There was a rustling of papers on the other end, and then the loud whisper was back. "They were driving a maroon pickup. A Ford, I believe. And the license plate was RFD 177."

"Hold on, Mrs. Puahi."

Coming up empty on his search for a pen, Steve held his hand up in a wait gesture, even though the other party couldn't see him, and lunged for the glove compartment, hoping that Danny might have stashed something there that he could use. The contents, which must have shifted quite a bit during his breakneck maneuvering, spilled out onto the floor as soon as he pulled the small door open, and he bit back a curse, leaning over the passenger seat to survey the newly created mess. A small stub of a pencil caught his eye, and he grabbed it eagerly along with a crumpled piece of paper - a receipt of some kind.

"Could you repeat the license plate number for me, please?"

She did so, eagerly and diligently, offering to continue her surveillance, at least until she received Aulii's rental check.

Murmuring a distracted thanks, Steve quickly hung up on her and dialed Chin's number.

"Kelly."

"Chin, it's Steve," he clarified unnecessarily. "Listen, I just dropped Danny off at Queens Medical. He got a call that Grace was in an accident of some kind."

There was a shocked gasp on the other side and Chin's tense, "Is she alright?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly, shaking his head. He certainly hoped she was and tried not to think of the alternative. Of what the alternative would do to his best friend. "I'm about to head in there to find out. I need you to look up the owner of a maroon pickup, license plate Romeo Foxtrot Delta 177. Keanu Aulii's landlady just saw a heavily tattooed local pick him up in that car."

"Are you thinking he's connected to the case?" Chin asked, and Steve heard the telltale beeps of their electronic keyboard, as his colleague began running down the requested information.

"Mrs. Puahi has never seen him before. And she thinks she saw him carrying a gun. The guy might even be our killer."

"But why would he–?"

"Aulii is a thief, right?" Steve mused, absently picking up the strewn about items. "What if he stole something from that store? Something the killer was after?"

"And when he couldn't find it at the store, he tracked down Aulii?" Chin concluded.

"Precisely," he grunted, groping blindly underneath the passenger seat in search of any runaways. His hand bumped against something cold and glasslike, and he wrapped his fingers around it, intending to toss the object into the glove box just when Chin spoke up again.

"I got the results on the license plate you gave me. The car's owner is listed as Jacob Wills."

Steve frowned, straightening back out in his seat, his glass prize still wrapped tightly in his hand. "The name doesn't sound local," he murmured, digesting the new information. "Who is he?"

"An antiques collector," was the response, and Steve nodded at that.

"He might still be involved then," he decided firmly, absently stuffing the glass object into his pocket. "Have HPD put out an APB on the car and you and Kono pay a visit to Mr. Wills. Find out what he knows."

"Will do," Chin responded, unhesitating. "You keep us posted on Grace. And tell Danny we'll be there as soon as we can."

"I will," he promised hoarsely, already getting out of the car. "Thanks, man."

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

Steve ran inside, glancing wildly around the crowded waiting room in search of Danny. Not seeing his partner anywhere, he headed straight for the registration desk.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for a car accident victim that was brought here a little while ago. A Grace Williams?"

The nurse, a corpulent middle-aged woman, glared at him suspiciously from above her double chin. "Are you family?"

"I'm her father's partner," he replied automatically and frowned at her skeptically raised eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, sir, but, unfortunately, with a minor involved, unless you can prove custody, I'm afraid I will not be able to release that information to you."

Steve rolled his eyes, as the meaning of her words registered, and growled in frustration, leaning forward and slapping his badge onto the smooth white surface. "Listen," he began, his voice tight with impatience, "I am Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett, head of the governor's Five-0 task force. Detective Williams, the child's father, is my partner. I need to find my partner and I need to see Ms. Williams. Urgently."

Biting his lip in annoyance, as she continued to hesitate, even though she had the decency to look flushed, he decided to throw in his trump card. "I can have the governor ask you for me, if you'd like," he threatened, pulling out his phone and making a show of scrolling through his list of contacts, all the while hoping that she won't call his bluff.

His ruse seemed to work, however, and the nurse relented, grudgingly though it was.

"I apologize for the misunderstanding, Commander," she said, sounding somewhat contrite. "According to our records, Ms. Williams has just recently gotten out of surgery and was transferred to the ICU."

"Thank you," Steve acknowledged curtly, interrupting whatever else she was planning to say, spun on his heel, and rushed off.

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

"What are you saying? That she would never–?" Danny's voice, shaky and barely audible, sounded nothing like his partner's, and Steve froze outside the drawn curtain, listening with ever-growing trepidation, unable to make himself go in.

"Spinal cord injuries are unpredictable," a calm voice responded. "She may be able to recover some motor function with time, but there are no guarantees. Once the swelling goes down, she will be reevaluated by our neurosurgeon, and he will be able to give you a clearer prognosis. That is all I can give you for now. I am sorry."

The curtain was pulled open part way, and Steve stepped aside automatically, letting a tall scrubs-clad man walk past. He stared after him numbly, his mind still trying to digest what he had just heard. _"Spinal cord injury? Grace was paralyzed? Dear God, this cannot be happening!"_ These thoughts kept running through his head – a confused shocked jumble.

He swallowed harshly, forcing himself to focus. _"Danny needs you, dammit! _ _Snap out of it, sailor! Now is not the time to lose it."_ Taking a deep, steadying breath he reached for the curtain, intending to go inside.

Rachel's cold, emotionless voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"If our daughter remains paralyzed, I will blame you, Daniel."

"Me?" Danny sounded just as shocked at that statement as Steve felt.

"You were so eager to blame me earlier," Rachel went on, her words harsh, biting, "I feel I should return the favor."

"Rachel–"

"You could have saved her!" she sounded almost hysterical now, and Steve winced inadvertently at the rising volume. "You could have reversed the damage. You had the ability to do that."

There was a pause, followed by Danny's strangled, "You know I don't have those powers anymore, Rachel. Why bring it up now?"

"Because all those years you refrained from using them for fear of the _**consequences**_, you didn't think about those consequences one bit when it came to your precious Commander," she retorted bitterly, and behind the curtain Steve sucked in a sharp, pained breath. "But now when your daughter needs you, you've got nothing to offer her. Nothing!"

"What are you saying? I should have let my best friend die so I could save my powers _just in case_?" Danny's voice was raised too now, trembling with poorly controlled emotions.

The Brit's reply held no compassion, driving her point home and a stake of guilt through Steve's heart. "I'm saying that if you hadn't wasted your one last opportunity to use them, your daughter wouldn't be in this predicament now."

"That's not fair, Rach," came Danny's quiet, pained response. "That's not-"

And suddenly Steve could hear no more. Nauseated and suffocating, Rachel's ruthless, angry words roaring in his ears, he stumbled unsteadily out of the ICU to the nearest restroom and all but collapsed there, sliding gracelessly down the wall onto a cold tiled floor.

_"She was right,"_ his mind echoed viciously. _"If it weren't for you, Danny would still have his powers. He could have helped Gracie. And now..."_

He swallowed convulsively, trying to tamp down the rising nausea, his arms falling weakly at his sides.

And suddenly he sat up straighter, frowning, as his right hand bumped against something hard in his pant pocket. He reached inside, pulling out a small glass vial, and stared at it for a moment, brows knit in confusion.

A vague memory of Danny showing this bottle to the clerk at the magic shop came to him then. _"He had said something about it. What was it? Oh, yeah, a sentient had given it to him, one of the two who had stripped him of his powers. It was a referral of sorts, so Danny could get more of those pills, should he need them."_

Steve peered closer at the little bottle, noting the number written in perfect cursive. "I wonder...," he murmured, an idea already forming in his mind.

A moment later, phone pressed tightly against his ear, he listened with bated breath as his call connected.

"Hello. My name is Steve McGarrett. I'm a friend of Danny's. Danny Williams."

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**TBC**

**I hope the story continues to entertain. Please let me know either way.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Thank you so much to everyone who read this story and everyone who was kind enough to leave a comment. Here's another short chapter to move the action along. I hope to have a bit more time ****to write **next week.

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**Chapter 3**

"I am truly sorry to hear about Daniel's daughter, Mr. McGarrett, but I'm afraid I won't be able to offer much of an assistance at the moment," came after a long pause, and Steve's heart sank at the somewhat callous, dismissive response.

"What? Why?" he croaked out, squeezing the phone tighter, the fingers of his other hand digging subconsciously into his thigh.

"We have a ... situation here at the School," was a cautious reply. " I am unable to get away at this time."

"You promised you'd help him," Steve countered almost petulantly, fingers digging deeper, harder, as he fought to restrain himself from lashing out at the man. "His daughter–"

"Will survive," the sentient cut in, cool and firm, and the former SEAL stiffened at the ruthlessness of the response, biting back an angry growl. "I am not a heartless person, despite what you might think," the other man continued in a slightly softer voice, ignoring the SEAL's not so subtle scoff. "I do feel for Daniel, and if his daughter's life were in real danger, I assure you, I would have done my best to come to his assistance. The fact of the matter is, however, that she will survive, with or without the use of her legs. Whereas the mess that Sentient Winsley and his father created endangered the sentients' entire way of life, and we are now trying to contain the fallout. So, as much as it pains me to say it, there really is nothing I can do at the moment."

Steve squeezed his eyes shut against the traitorous moisture of despair, as he felt his last bit of hope crumble. "You don't know Danny," he managed, his mouth dry. "Grace... she's his whole world. Something like this ... it would crush him." McGarrett sucked in a short, ragged breath, searing like a spoonful of molten lava. "He's already blaming himself, his inability to heal. His wife is doing the same. And I–... He can't... There's gotta be something you can do...," the croaked out words were met with cold, expressionless silence, and he trailed off, discouraged. "Please," he all but whimpered.

"Daniel made his choice, knowing the consequences," the sentient observed quietly. "He is no more to blame for his current predicament than you are."

Steve bit his lip then, for that right there was the rub of the matter. Because he did believe that he was to blame. For all of it.

A long, heavy sigh came over the line, as the sentient seemed to consider Steve's silence, reading something into it. Then followed a reluctant, "Perhaps there might be something _**you **_can do."

"Me?" Steve frowned, incredulous. "What can I possibly-?"

"There is an ancient stone called the Hava stone," the sentient interrupted coolly, as if the other man hadn't spoken. "The name comes from the Hebrew language, and it means 'the breath of life'. And, as its name claims, the stone has, among its other properties, the ability to transfer life energy from one animate being into another. It has been used quite extensively in the olden days and helped save countless lives."

Steve sat up straighter at that, his grip on the phone tightening to the point of perilous creaking. "It can heal?"

"Yes."

Letting out a brief sigh of relief, Steve pushed on. "Can a non-sentient... can _**I**_ use it?" he asked, and held his breath until he heard another hesitant, unenthusiastic "yes."

"The Hava stone does not require magical abilities on the part of the user," the sentient confirmed reluctantly, and Steve was already picking himself up off the restroom floor, his eyes burning with renewed sense of hope and purpose.

"I feel that I must warn you, however, that some find it rather... difficult to control. Its use was... discouraged within the sentient community for that reason," the sentient cautioned, and there was something in his voice that set off little alarm bells in Steve's mind.

He ignored the warning, however, because it was Danny. And Grace. And there was a chance that he could fix this. Hand on the door, as he readied to push it open, he inquired sharply with not a hint of hesitation, "Where do I find that stone?"

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

Danny sat hunched over in a plastic armless chair that he had pushed up flush against Gracie's bed. He didn't look up when Steve pulled back the curtain, and, in all honesty, Steve was glad for it. Because he took one look at Danny's little girl – looking so small, so lost amid the crisp white sheets in that enormous bed, so achingly fragile – and suddenly felt like running, as far away as possible. Until his feet could no longer carry him. Until the suffocating burning in his throat eases up even the tiniest of fractions so he could breathe again.

He swallowed convulsively, his throat dry and gritty like sun-scorched sand, and forced himself to take a wobbly, hesitant step forward.

"So how long are you gonna stand there and do your creepy stalking thing?"

Danny didn't turn around as he spoke, and his voice, muffled by his hands, sounded flat, broken.

Steve started at the unexpected utterance and froze in place, absently twirling the pill bottle in his fingers. "I... uh... I wanted to see how you were."

"How I am?" The words were followed by a bitter, hollow laugh. "How do you think I am, Steven? Huh?" Danny twisted around, giving Steve the full view of his haggard, tear-stained face. "My little girl gets almost crushed to death because my ex-wife's overpriced chauffeur happened to have a medical condition that nobody knew about."

"Medical condition?" Steve echoed numbly; he hadn't even considered that the driver could have been the one at fault.

"Narcolepsy. The son of a bitch fell asleep behind the wheel. I swear, if that crash hadn't killed him–" Anger and grief surged through his words, burning in their intensity, as Danny's hands twisted restlessly against one another, as if wringing an invisible neck. "And now when my baby wakes up, I'm gonna have to tell her that she may never walk again. And Rachel thinks that it's all my fault, that I should never have–" Danny cut himself off abruptly, his red-rimmed eyes widening in alarm, as if he only just realized who his audience was, and he ducked his head, turning back toward his daughter.

But Steve knew. He knew perfectly well what Rachel thought. And by the anguished look on Danny's face and the way the blond averted his eyes, it was fairly obvious to Steve that Danny thought it too. Not that Steve blamed him. Not in the very least. In fact, he agreed with Rachel wholeheartedly. If he had been more careful at that warehouse all those months ago and hadn't forced Danny's hand, his partner would have still had his powers. He would have been able to use those powers to help Grace. Sure, he probably would have lost them afterwards, but it would have been worth it for Danny. Whereas saving him... It was okay, though, because he was going to fix this. No matter what it took.

He sucked in a lungful of air that seemed somehow too oppressive, too stifling to bring him any relief. "Listen, uhm," he began and had to clear his throat, as his voice gone out on him. "Chin just called. He thinks he might have a lead on our elusive witness. ... Will you be okay if I –?"

"Go," Danny waved him off, not even bothering to look in his direction. "If I need a ride I'll call you."

The former SEAL nodded, even though Danny couldn't see him. "I'll be back soon," he vowed hoarsely, adding a silent _"And I'll fix this! I swear!"_

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_TBC_

_Well, looks like Steve has a plan now. What do you think? _


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Gosh, I'm so proud of myself: I posted a new chapter in under a week. Hell must have frozen over...**

**Well, time to find out a bit more about the mysterious stone and why the sentient Steve spoke to was so evasive about it.**

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**Chapter 4**

"Commander McGarrett," the shopkeeper, a dried-up old Hawaiian, smiled at him, as he walked into the store, tearing her attention away from a stack of various size ointment jars that she was carefully arranging on a nearby shelf. "Your friend, the Detective, is not here today?"

"No, he... uh... he couldn't get away," Steve answered distractedly, scanning the floor-to-ceiling shelves that seemed to be groaning under the weight of a wild assortment of jars, vials and strange-looking relics. It has been a few months since he and Danny were here last, and, apart from a thicker layer of dust and a few dozen newer looking vials, nothing seemed to have changed. If customers did come to old Ewelani Keahi's magic shop, it certainly wasn't on a daily basis.

"Is he doing alright with the pills?" the old woman inquired, turning her attention back to her task once again. "You, boys, haven't been around lately. I assumed his treatment was working?" She looked up briefly, giving him a questioning glance.

"It was... _**is**_," the former SEAL nodded, fumbling. "I mean, he's good ... with the pills... I think. It's... not why I'm here."

"Oh?"

He swallowed thickly under the deep penetrating gaze of dark brown eyes, feeling suddenly very self-conscious. "I was told that I might find the Hava stone here," he blurted out in a half-question.

Mrs. Keahi regarded him silently for what seemed like hours, her weathered, wrinkled face scrunching into an odd mixture of concern and annoyance, while he squirmed uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

"The Hava stone?" she repeated slowly, picking up her box of ointment jars and setting it carefully down onto the floor only to shove it deep under the counter next to other such boxes to be sorted out later. "This is quite an unusual request for someone without a drop of magic in his blood," she observed tightly, walking around the counter to approach him.

"I was told I'd be able to use it just as well as any sentient," Steve retorted stubbornly, trying to hide the fact that it was taking him more of an effort than he would have liked to admit not to flinch back from the diminutive woman.

"A _sentient _would know better than to use it, not to mention sicking a mortal to fetch it," the Hawaiian spat out, her eyes growing darker with displeasure. "But then the damned folk never cared about the lives of those they consider beneath them. Did said _sentient _also happen to mention that sentients have been forbidden from using the Hava stone?"

Steve glared at her, suddenly annoyed. _How dare she lump all sentients into the same group? Danny never– _ "He... may have said something to that effect," he admitted grudgingly, watching her sullenly.

"Did he say why?" The old woman snorted derisively, as her young visitor remained broodily silent. "That's what I thought."

"Listen, I don't–" Steve never got a chance to finish, as Mrs. Keahi went on, jabbing her spindly finger into his chest to shush him.

"The Hava stone was discovered many centuries ago in Australia, inside a meteor crater. Nobody knows its origins, although many of the magic folk believe that it had come from somewhere far beyond our galaxy."

"What does this have to do w–," Steve slammed his mouth shut again, discomfited both by her closeness and the intensity of her gaze.

"The point, young man, is that the power that the stone wields is greater than any human – magical or not – has the capacity to handle. The sentients discovered this the hard way, when several of them died trying to heal others."

She paused, cocking her age-silvered head slightly to the right, waiting for him to react, and Steve obliged reluctantly, unwilling to piss off a Kahuna.

"What happened?"

"The stone takes the energy from the one who holds it, and transfers it into the one, who is sick, the one it is pressed against," the old woman explained, all the while keeping her gaze glued unnervingly to Steve's eyes. "To end the transfer one must release the stone. But since the stone works by drawing your energy out..."

"...you don't have enough left to let it go," Steve finished quietly, the realization helping him make more sense of sentient Koehler's hesitation. "But can't you let go **before** that happens? Before you become too weak to do it?"

The old woman shook her head, giving him a rueful grimace of a smile. "The change happens very gradually, imperceptibly almost. Even the most proficient magic users found it difficult to release the stone in time. Obviously, those that died could not."

The former SEAL nodded gravely, as he mulled over her words. The odds weren't great, but then the stakes were high, too high for him not to risk it. "I can see why the sentient said its use was discouraged, but it still–"

"Discouraged?" the Hawaiian cackled at him, as she finally stepped away and went back behind her counter, dismissing him with a wave of her bony hand. "My dear boy, the use of the Hava stone was strictly forbidden for any and all sentients. The stone deposits that were found in the Australian crater were destroyed, along with virtually all the specimen that have been in use across the globe."

"But I was told that you have it," Steve frowned unhappily, dreading that the sentient had lied to him about this as well. "You do still have it, right?"

"Not many haole sentients could find the path to our store, if you know what I mean," the shopkeeper replied a bit contemptuously, and Steve nodded in understanding. The little shop was huddled against the deeply overgrown hillside in the most remote area of the most remote of Hawaiian islands, its location hidden from view, concealed from the uninitiated.

"And the local folk treasure our magic culture too much to dare destroy any part of it, no matter how dangerous. But the fact that I have it doesn't mean that I or anyone else should or ever will use it."

That last bit was added for his benefit, Steve was certain of it, as the old woman once again busied herself by meticulously straightening out her overflowing shelves. The conversation was over, as far as old Ewelani was concerned. She had given him her arguments, and he was now expected to do the sensible thing – turn around and go back home. He was already being ignored, brushed off.

But Steve was not known for acting sensibly when his ohana was in danger, nor was he so easily discouraged. If Danny were here, he could have warned Mrs. Keahi about that. But Danny wasn't here, and the reason behind his absence along with the careless dismissal of his earlier request strained what little diplomatic sense he still maintained.

Gritting his teeth sharply in an effort to control his rising temper, the former SEAL clasped his hands behind him, squared his shoulders and said as respectfully as he could manage, "I appreciate the information and the warning. I understand the risks. But I came here for the stone, and I am not leaving without it."

The Hawaiian stilled, favoring him with an openly disapproving look. "You understand the risks," she repeated, her tone just shy of sarcastic. "You have no magic inside you, Commander. You have never attempted a healing. You have no idea what an energy drain feels like. You won't know when the right time to stop is. Not that you would be able to stop even if you did."

McGarrett nodded curtly, acknowledging the possibility. "You're probably right, but it doesn't change anything."

The dark eyes narrowed, calm, assessing. "And you believe your life is worth that risk."

It wasn't a question, but Steve felt the need to respond anyway. "I do." The words were quiet and unbendingly firm, as he matched her gaze unyielding.

The old woman sighed in resignation and walked off, disappearing somewhere in the dark recesses of the store, and he waited impatiently, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. She reemerged a good five minutes later, carrying a small tin box, dented and scratched in places, its color – an age-faded black.

"Here," she placed it on the counter before him, gingerly wiping a thick layer of dust off of its surface. "Adjusted for customer insanity discount, you owe me $150."

He grinned, dipping his head in silent acceptance of her grouchily delivered insult. And as he turned to leave, the treasured box clasped firmly in his left hand, he raised his other in mock salute and retorted, "Morituri te salutant."

The woman's grudging smile and a fondly grumbled "lolo" followed him out the door.

* * *

_TBC_

"Morituri te salutant" - "Those who are about to die salute you", a phrase supposedly used by gladiators, who were about to engage in a fight.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N I'm (fashionably) late as usual with my update, and I apologize for keeping you waiting. Here's the next installment: McGarrett's plan in motion.**

**I hope you enjoy. Drop me a line and let me know :)**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"Danny? Danny. Danny!" A hand clasped his shoulder, shaking him gently but insistently out of his slumber.

The blond started awake, sitting up with a jolt and nearly toppling out of his chair in the process. The hand on his shoulder tightened, providing his flailing body with a much needed support, while he fought to clear his head and get his bearings.

"Ch-Chin?" he mumbled, blinking owlishly up at the older man. "What are you doing here?"

"Steve called me a little while ago," the Hawaiian answered with a small shrug, "told me he had to run an errand and asked me to check in on you, take you out to eat."

"He did, did he?" the hoarsely grumbled words tumbled past his lips, as Danny scrubbed a weary hand down his face. Something was off about Chin's response, but his head still felt as though it had been stuffed full of thick wads of cotton, and he couldn't quite grasp what that something was.

"He was quite insistent, in fact," Chin affirmed, giving him a tight grin, before his face grew serious once more. "He's worried about you. Kono and I are, too. Come on, buddy, let me take you away from here for a few minutes. We'll grab a quick bite. My treat – you know I'm good for it." The last bit was delivered with forced levity, a slight dig at McGarrett's infamously non-existent wallet in the hope of lightening Danny's mood.

Danny huffed out a small chuckle and shook his head in tired refusal. "I appreciate the concern, Chin, I really do. And, don't get me wrong, the idea of **actually **having my dinner paid for when promised is strangely exciting, but I can't leave... in case...," He paused, nodding in the direction of his still unconscious daughter, his face tightening with anguish, and added brokenly, "I don't want her to wake up alone."

Chin bowed his head in understanding, the hand on Danny's shoulder tightening in silent support. Yet, while he could understand the blond's reluctance to leave the room, he was also not quite finished making his case. Steve had been adamant that Danny needed a break, and, looking at his hunched over, hollow-eyed haole friend now, Chin was inclined to agree.

Keeping his hand on Danny's shoulder, Chin squatted down to the blond's eye level, making sure to catch the other man's gaze. "How about this?" he offered calmly, his eyes soft. "I take you downstairs to the cafeteria. We grab a quick bite, and we are back – 5-10 minutes tops."

"But-"

"There's a nurse just outside. I gave her your number. If anything changes while we're out, if Grace so much as twitches, you'll be the first to know."

Danny wavered, chewing on his bottom lip and glancing uncertainly in Grace's direction, as if expecting her to object.

"Come on, Danny," Chin nudged ever so gently, sensing his hesitation, "take a break. I'll have you back here in ten minutes tops, I promise. What do you say?"

The response was a tiny reluctant nod, and Chin smiled encouragingly in return, as he stood up, pulling his unresisting care-worn friend upward. "There you go, brah, I'll have you back here in no time."

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

Hidden behind a vending machine in the nearly empty hospital hallway, Steve watched as his two teammates stepped out of the ICU and headed over to the elevators – Danny's gait halting, reluctant, as his friend all but dragged him determinedly toward the shiny metal doors. The button was pressed, the elevator pinged obediently, graciously opening its massive doors to invite them in, and Danny was gently manhandled inside, keeping a worried eye on the unequivocally closed ICU doors.

Closing his eyes briefly in relief as the elevator took off and throwing out a mental "thank you" to Chin for his doggedness in getting his stubborn partner to come along, Steve pushed himself off the wall and walked briskly toward the ICU. Nodding hurriedly to the already familiar nurse, he strode confidently past her station and moments later he was already standing inside Grace's recently abandoned cubicle, the curtain pulled resolutely closed behind him. He lingered by the curtain a moment longer, the fingers of his left hand fiddling with the small metal box in his pocket, as doubts once again made their presence known.

_What if this doesn't work? All this elaborate deception on his part that Danny is unlikely to forgive him for, once he finds out, and all for nothing? What then?_

The SEAL shook his head sharply and pressed his lips into a tight thin line, forcibly shoving the doubts away. _There wasn't time for those. Danny and Chin could come back at any moment. _

And so as he would before any mission, he blew out a steadying breath, squared his shoulders and stepped forward toward the bed, pulling out the box in the process.

"Hey, Grace-face," he greeted her hoarsely, lovingly smoothing down the tousled dark hair, as she lay there unawares. "I'm gonna... uh... I'm gonna try something now. I kinda lied to your dad and Chin, and I'm probably going to be in huge trouble when they find out. But, what else is new, right?" He forced out a strangled chuckle, swallowing against the growing tightness in his throat.

Flipping the box open, he shook its contents out into his open palm, the blue eyes narrowing on the small unevenly shaped object, its surface smooth, iridescent and dark as the night itself. A sudden shadow passed over the stone, momentarily dulling the previously lustrous surface, and Steve felt his skin tingle slightly as his fingers closed over it.

"Here we go, Gracie," he breathed out, gently pressing the stone against the little girl's chest, willing for it to work with every fiber of his being. "It's all gonna be alright soon."

The effect was almost instantaneous. Thin shadowy wisps snaked out from between Steve's fingers, quickly enveloping his entire hand in an iridescent smoky veil. The tingling sensation from before grew stronger with every beat of his heart, and he realized with a start that it was synchronizing itself to it. The stone grew warmer in his palm, the tingling becoming an intense, relentless burning, and he sucked in a sharp breath of surprise, as he felt his knees wobble, overcome by a sudden weakness.

He gripped the edge of the bed with his free hand, slamming his eyes shut against a wave of dizziness, the first of many, that assaulted him swiftly and underhandedly, leaving him wrung out and trembling.

The change was brutal as it was rapid, and moments later he already felt himself struggling to stay upright, gulping desperately for air that seemed to have gotten too thin somehow.

Yet through it all his right hand remained glued to Grace's chest, held there by an invisible and immovable force. The old shopkeeper's warning came to his mind just then, and he wondered idly if this should be the time to let go. But what little energy he could muster to pull himself free had the effective strength of a newborn kitten, and the awesome ancient power ignored his pitiful attempt, intensifying instead its quest to drain him.

He gasped desperately for breath, like a drowning man in those terrifying final moments when the roof of water begins to close over his head for the last time and he has no more strength left to fight his way back to the surface; moments before he stills his frantic thrashing and lets go, resigned to his fate, floating calm and peaceful down into the murky depths.

Steve fought, too, down to his final breath, trying to push back the encroaching darkness, trying to keep his shaking legs from folding, trying to peer through the ever-thickening haze that clouded his vision to see what was happening with Grace. Because if he could just _see_ that it was working, if he could _see_ that Grace was getting better, then it was all worth it. But the more he struggled, the greedier the stone became it seemed, and soon its hapless victim had nothing else left to give.

The stone released him then. The trembling legs gave way, and Steve crumbled like a broken marionette, tossed carelessly aside by its owner. The stone clattered innocently to the floor a mere second after the man that held it.

* * *

**TBC**

Ay, I did it to poor Steve again. Well, you didn't think I wouldn't, did you? :)


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Thank you so much for reading and taking the time to comment. I'm sorry I wasn't able to respond to all of you (I seem to have fallen behind again). **

**This here is the second to last chapter. Only a small epilogue left, which should, hopefully, tie up all the loose ends for this story and lead into the final installment of this story arc. I hope you enjoy, and I apologize in advance for any mistakes (it's late and I'm seriously sleep-deprived).**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

"He _called_ you?"

"Who?" Chin halted at the entrance to the cafeteria and turned toward him, one eyebrow raised in confusion.

"Steve," the blond detective clarified, his forehead creased in thought. "You said he called you."

"He did," Chin acknowledged slowly, not understanding the reason for Danny's deepening frown. "Why?"

"Did he meet with you at all today?"

Again the question seemed to have taken Chin aback, as the older man considered him silently for a moment before shaking his head in the negative. "He called me, said he had an errand to run and asked me to look in on you, make sure you eat something." He pointed expressively at the dining table filled expanse before them. "How about it, brah? I thought you wanted to get back to Grace's room as soon as possible?"

Danny ignored him, though, reaching for his phone instead. "He told me that he was heading out to meet with you, discuss something about the case," he murmured absently, giving Chin a questioning look, to which the latter replied with another vigorous shake. "So he lied to me, and he lied to you, and he apparently wanted me out of the room," the blond continued, dialing Steve's number. "And I, for one, would very much like to know why."

"Not answering?" Chin surmised, as Danny's scowl deepened.

"Goes straight to voicemail," he confirmed, stuffing the phone none-too-gently back into his pocket. "Something's up," he concluded in an unhappy mutter, "we should go back." A second later he was already turning back in the direction of the elevators.

"Hey, wait, wait, Danny, hold on," Chin's hand wrapped around his bicep, pulling him back. "Don't you think you're overreacting a bit? It could be nothing."

Glancing at him briefly, Danny shook his head, giving him a grim, nervous smile. "This is McGarrett we're talking about," he pointed out, pulling his arm away. "There's no such thing as 'nothing' when it comes to McGarrett."

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

Grace's terrified screams greeted them, as soon as they stepped through the doors of the ICU, and, eyes blown wide in alarm, Danny raced toward her cubicle as fast as his legs could carry him, Chin close on his heels.

It would take Danny a few moments to process the entire scene that opened before him when he all but ripped the blue privacy curtain off the rails in his hurry to push it aside. A few moments before he would acknowledge a motionless form in the all-too-familiar cargo pants, partially obscured by two nurses working frantically around it, or the crash cart being pushed past them into the room, or another flustered nurse that stood at the foot of the bed, trying to reassure an obviously upset Grace.

Danny's awed mind perceived none of that, as all he saw at that moment was his little girl, who launched herself off the bed the moment she saw him, landing on her perfectly functional feet and running (RUNNING) toward him, flinging herself into his arms with a loudly sobbed out "Danno".

He closed his eyes against a dizzying wave of relief and hung on to her as tightly as he dared, while she buried her tear-stained face in the side of his neck, hiccupping occasionally against his skin. "It's alright," he shushed, swaying gently with her in his arms in the hope that the movement will soothe her. "You're alright, Monkey. Everything is alright." And as he said those words it finally hit him – his baby girl was indeed alright. Somehow, by some miracle, none of the doctor's dire predictions materialized, and Grace actually looked healthier than ever before.

Grace sniffled loudly at that, pulling back just enough that she could see his face. "They wouldn't tell me anything," she accused, drawing Danny's attention out of the tiny circle that was all-Grace and zooming out into the rest of the room. "I woke up and I saw Uncle Steve fall... and he was... he wasn't moving," she hiccupped again, her face scrunching up in worry, and repeated tearfully, "And they wouldn't tell me what's wrong with him."

Danny blinked numbly, his gaze sliding down to land on the still and spectrally pale face of his friend, moments before a nurse leaned over Steve with defibrillator paddles, blocking his view. The warning cry of "Clear!" reached his consciousness, and he jumped involuntarily, as his friend's body was jolted to arch momentarily up and off the floor, only to fall limply back down, when the electricity charging through it cut off.

The second nurse hovered over his friend's form, checking for pulse, only to pull back seconds later, shaking her head dejectedly. "I'm still not getting anything. I think we need to get the doctor in here to call it."

"Danno?" Grace squeaked above his ear, her arms tightening around him in alarm, spurring him into action.

"Wait!" he called out to one of the nurses, who already moved to act on her colleague's suggestion. "Wait just a goddamn minute. What is happening here?"

"We don't know, Detective." The response was genuine, as was the helpless, regretful shrug that accompanied it. "I ran in here, when I heard your daughter scream. I found her crying in her bed and your friend here unresponsive. I was just about to call you, when you showed up."

The second nurse rose too, putting the defibrillator away. "We have tried reviving him several times, Detective," she assured with apologetic but ruthless finality. "There's no heartbeat. I'm afraid there's nothing else we can do."

"Just like that?" Danny's voice choked off into a whisper, his throat seizing up unexpectedly at the brutal words, as his mind reeled in panic and confusion. A warm hand fell on his shoulder, and he flinched, ready to pull away from the unsolicited comfort. The hand held firm, however, keeping him in place, grounding him with steady, familiar presence. _ Chin_.

"I'm sorry." The nurse moved to walk past him, and he could stand it no longer. Twisting forcefully out of his friend's grasp, he whirled angrily on the scrubs-clad woman.

"I don't need your sorry," he hissed, Grace's painfully tight embrace – the only thing stopping him from launching into a loud, expletive-filled rant. "I need you to go back there and try again. Try harder!" He let go of Grace with one hand, pointing emphatically in the direction of his all-too-still friend. "You've got to figure out what's wrong with him, because people don't just–"

He trailed off abruptly, as his gaze fell on a small object that lay half-hidden in the shadows underneath the bed.

Setting Grace down as gently as possible, he walked toward it, bending down to examine it closer. A moment later his eyes widened in horrified recognition, and he reached shakily for it, a string of muttered curses accompanying the movement. He remembered seeing a photograph of something similar in his School textbook; remembered the description of the unearthly ancient artifact and the dire warning that accompanied it: "Unrestrainable power. Highly potent and deadly. All usage prohibited." It all made sense now – Steve's sudden secrecy and deception, Grace's miraculous recovery...

"Stupid, self-sacrificing, scheming bastard!" he swore loudly, scrambling over to Steve's side.

"Danny?" Chin's cautious voice sounded somewhere above his shoulder. "What is it?"

He twisted to look at him, despair in the pale blue eyes giving way to wild, crazy hope. Pulling roughly on Chin's shirttail, he forced the other man down on his knees beside him next to Steve.

"Grab my hand," he told him tersely, mentally begging for him to trust him.

Chin raised a questioning brow but complied wordlessly, earning himself a grateful, if tense, smile.

"Danno?" Grace took a hesitant step toward them, brown eyes blown wide in alarm.

"Stay back, Gracie!" he cried out in warning, stopping her open-mouthed and tearful in her tracks. He cringed at the terrified look from her face, wanting nothing more but to go to her, to reassure, but time was against him now, and he needed to act quickly before it became too late... if it wasn't too late already. Nodding sharply to the nearby nurse, he reiterated his previous instructions for the benefit of the adult, "Make sure she stays back. Don't let her come close." Then glancing back at his bewildered teammate, he squeezed the man's hand in a gesture of both gratitude and support and added urgently, "You let go the moment I tell you, understand?"

Chin nodded earnestly, and that was enough. In the next breath Danny already had the dully iridescent stone pressed against Steve's chest, hoping and praying that the man's time has not yet run out.

He had remembered enough about the stone to know what to expect, and yet the first tingle still felt odd even to him. He could only imagine what Chin must have been thinking at this moment.

He knew Chin felt at least some, if not all of what he was feeling – they were connected, after all. The ancient power that latched onto him was sapping the energy from them both (Chin's a bit less so, perhaps, than his own). His Hawaiian friend hasn't so much as uttered a sound, however. The only indication that Chin was somehow affected by what was happening was the slight surprised tightening of the man's fingers around Danny's palm.

Good old Chin. Danny could only hope the man would forgive him for forcing this on him. And, most of all, he was hoping that it would all be worth it somehow. The desperate, McGarrett-like insanity of his plan consisted in banking on the hope that his and Chin's energies combined would give Steve enough to bring him back to life without sucking either one of them dry.

"Come on, Steve," he urged, anger and worry blending together to color his words. "Come on, you stupid heart-attack of a man! Don't you do this to me! Live, damn you!"

The first signs of lightheadedness took him by surprise. He wobbled dizzily on his knees, Steve's lax features becoming blurred for a moment, and his mind reacted, if a bit sluggishly, to the ominous cue with a loud, insistent "Pull back!"

He started, barking out a hoarse "Now, Chin!", and felt a rough tug on his right arm, as his teammate jerked his hand away, the momentum dislodging Danny's own connection to Steve, the stone falling from his sweaty palm. He sat back on his feet, breathing harshly, as though he had just returned from a ten-mile run, blinking rapidly, as he struggled to see Steve clearer through the slowly dissipating haze.

"Come on," he whispered pleadingly, getting his first clear look. The deathly pallor was gone, yielding to a healthier, living shade of what had been Steve's normal sun-tanned bronze, and Danny could see the telltale signs of the hesitant, halting breaths of a body coming back to life. Chin exhaled loudly beside him – an awed, incredulous sound, and Danny spared him a quick look, only to be pulled back by a sudden brush of movement against his knee.

"Steve...," he breathed out, heady with relief, as two hooded, bleary eyes sought purchase on his face. And obeying a sudden, overwhelming rush of emotions, Danny grabbed rough fistfuls of the prone man's shirt, pulling him sharply into a fierce, bone-crushing hug, only to release him just as abruptly moments later, sending him ruthlessly back to the floor with a brutal, head-jarring slap.

"What the HELL were you thinking, huh? HUH?!" he rounded on the downed man, who blinked up at him in dazed confusion, gingerly poking at his rapidly reddening cheek. "Did you even stop to think what it would do to us... to Gracie? Did you think what it would do to her when she found that her Uncle Steve decided to commit harakiri on the off chance that she might walk again?"

"Harakiri?" the brunette squinted hard at him, raising a shaking hand to rub at his throbbing temples.

"It's a form of suicide, Steven," Danny thundered, throwing up his hands in frustration. "I-"

A weakly raised hand silenced him momentarily, Steve cutting in with an equally weak, exhausted, "I know what it means, Danny. And I did think. I thought it was worth it."

"No!" Grace's loud, furious objection interrupted whatever Danny was about to say. The little girl, nearly forgotten in the shock of the moment, stepped hesitantly toward her adopted uncle, her lower lip trembling with the effort to keep the tears at bay. "No," she repeated quieter but with the same heated conviction. "It's not true. I don't want you to die, Uncle Steve. I would _never _want you to d–" Her voice cut out abruptly, choked off by a pitiful, half-whimpered sob, and then she was suddenly wrapped around Steve like a tiny four-limbed octopus, holding on with such terrified desperation, as if she were afraid of falling.

"I don't wanna lose you, Uncle Steve," she insisted wetly, trembling slightly in his arms, while the stunned, bewildered SEAL soothed her awkwardly, mumbling useless, jumbled apologies in her ear.

"Maybe you should think harder next time," Danny admonished tiredly, his gaze softening somewhat at the expression of abject misery on his friend's face. The small nod of acknowledgment from his friend, followed by a softly mouthed "I'm sorry" over his little girl's tousled head drained away the last of the worry-born anger, and Danny blew out a deep, weary breath, echoing the nod. "Let's go home."

* * *

_TBC_

_Drop me a line, tell me what you think (pwetty peas? :))_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to respond to all of you. I wanted to thank you for giving attention to this story and sticking around despite the slow updates. **

**I started out, hoping to write a quick epilogue, but then it turned into a much longer chapter than I intended (go figure). I must thank storyfan101 for giving me an idea on how to tie this story in with the final installment of this arc. Thank you, my friend!**

**I hope the chapter makes sense. I tried to wrap things up in a nice, neat bow, but there's always a chance I missed something. If so, if the chapter disappoints, I apologize. I hope you let me know either way.**

* * *

**Epilogue**

The waves rustled softly, as they splashed ashore, sparkling playfully in the warm rays of the late afternoon sun. The warm breeze, thick with the lingering, mouth-watering aroma of freshly-grilled steaks, was alive with the gentle, lighthearted murmur of conversation between Chin and Danny and occasional squeals of delighted laughter coming from the water, where Grace and Kono's attempt at building a sand castle evolved into an impromptu tickle fight.

Steve leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, letting the peaceful atmosphere wash over him, allowing his mind to linger for the first time on the fact that he had just died... twice... within a matter of months. Sure, he's had plenty of close calls over the years – pretty normal in his line of work, both as a SEAL and as a cop. But to _actually_ die in earnest, to cross that flimsy thread of a line that separates the living from the dead and to then come back from that "undiscovered country", as Shakespeare called it... _**twice**_...

He felt a shudder go through him – his body reacting involuntarily to the enormity of the realization that has been haunting his mind from the shadows of his subconscious. He fisted his hands, fingernails digging painfully into his skin, as he fought to hide his discomfort from those around him.

"Everything alright, Steve?"

_Damn... _He peeled his eyes open, finding himself looking straight into Danny's concerned ones. "Yeah... I... yeah..." Danny's eyes narrowed assessingly at the disjointed hoarse reply, and Steve hastened to change the subject. "Where's Chin?"

"Went inside," Danny nodded in the direction of the house. "Probably raiding your liquor cabinet as we speak." At Steve's raised eyebrow he added, "I just finished filling him in on the whole Life Force situation."

"Ah." Steve let the corner of his mouth curve into a tiny smile. "Well, he seemed to be taking it in stride."

"Don't let his Zen exterior fool you," the blond warned, the blue eyes crinkling with humor. "Having nearly half your life's energy sucked out of you by a mysterious ancient rock can cause even the coolest of the cucumbers to lose their cool."

Steve grinned absently, his mind, despite himself, going back to the moment he himself discovered Danny's secret. The bottle of beer had helped that time, but he probably wouldn't have minded something stronger either.

A hand on his knee startled him out of his thoughts, and he found himself once again under Danny's uncomfortably intense scrutiny.

"So I called Ewelani Keahi earlier," the Jersey native began thoughtfully, his gaze never wavering from Steve's face and therefore not missing the tiny flinch that flashed across it at the mention of the old woman's name.

"Oh?" Steve tried his best to sound nonchalant, knowing full well where this conversation was going and that he wasn't going to like it.

"Yep," Danny smacked his lips pensively, giving him a brief nod. "I thought, where could my partner _possibly _go to find an ancient alien weapon to kill himself with? I figured hers was the most likely place. She was rather pleasantly surprised to hear that you are still alive and kicking, so to speak. She also told me, and I quote, that if I want my lolo partner to stick around for a bit longer, I should make sure to keep him away from any and all active sentients." The blond paused for effect and leaned in closer, eyebrows pulling together into an unhappy frown. "Now, I gotta ask, knowing what you know about sentients, why on earth would you go to them without consulting me first?"

His voice rose in agitation, bordering on angry, and Steve flinched again, looking away to avoid the fierce scrutiny of the pale blue eyes. "Look, I'm sorry I went behind your back, Danny," he offered feebly, deciding that sticking to his guns was the only sensible thing to do under the circumstances. "I just wanted to do ... something. I thought that I could get your old professor to come help, since he, you know, offered and all," he finished with a barely perceptible half shrug.

"And he refused."

It wasn't a question, yet still he felt the need to respond, his voice betraying some of the bitterness he felt at the original refusal. "The guy gave me some crap about needing to stay at the School because of whatever your friend Winsley had done." Steve shook his head slightly, risking a glance at his partner. "Frankly, I didn't buy it."

Danny stared at him wordlessly for a long time, then, suddenly decided, he stuck out his hand in Steve's direction, palm up, "Give me the bottle."

"What?" The SEAL blinked stupidly at him, confused by the sudden change in topic.

"The bottle with the sentient's phone number," the blond snapped his fingers impatiently at him. "Give it to me."

Brows still drawn together in a mask of confusion, Steve reached blindly into his pocket, pulling out the long-forgotten vial. "What are you –?"

But Danny, his phone out, has already snatched up the vial and began dialing the number, decisively ignoring Steve.

"Professor," he greeted coldly, once the call connected. "Yes, this is he... I need to see you. ... Yes, right now. ... Thank you." He hung up, meeting Steve's puzzled stare. "We're about to have company."

No sooner had he said that than the air beside them thickened and began molding itself swiftly into the shape of a man, until an already familiar gray-haired sentient was standing at their table, his arms folded across his chest in a half-arrogant, half-defensive gesture. Sentient Koehler took in the scene before him, his eyes widening in poorly hidden surprise, as his gaze landed on Steve. He recovered quickly, though, shifting his gaze over to Danny and giving him a smile that seemed just a smidge forced.

"I see that everything worked out well, Daniel," the sentient remarked, sticking out his chin to point in the direction of the water, where Grace could be seen chasing after Kono around their half-collapsed sand tower. "I heard about your daughter's incident, but she appears to have recovered well."

"Despite your best efforts to the contrary, right, Professor?" Danny countered, his voice deceptively calm.

Taken aback by the unexpected retort, the sentient carefully pulled his features into a mask of confusion, coming back with a neutrally indignant, "I'm not sure I understand what you mean." Casting a brief glance at Steve, who had been watching both him and Danny intently, as though preparing to jump in should things look like they might be getting out of control, Koehler thought briefly over the last conversation he had with the young Commander. Deciding that the pretext he had used then was solid enough to attempt with his former student, he added, "I am sure your friend here told you that we had a rather serious issue back at the School, which required my presence."

Danny pushed his chair back and stood up slowly, taking a few deliberate steps toward the older man. "I heard," he confirmed tightly, his gaze boring into his former professor's. "But I also know that it would have taken someone with your level of abilities no more than a few minutes to help my daughter. And I find it odd that a man, who so freely offered to provide future assistance only a few months ago, refused to give it at the first opportunity."

A shadow of discomfort passed over the sentient's face, and he shifted his stance a bit, taking an unconscious step backwards from his now intimidatingly close former pupil. "I told you, Daniel, as I have told your friend, the Commander, I was–"

"Unable to leave, yeah-yeah, I heard," Danny finished for him, dismissing the explanation with a sharp wave of his hand. "Even if this, whatever it was, was so important that you really couldn't get away for the few minutes it would have taken you to help my daughter, you could have always sent someone in your place – someone less _essential _to the supposed issue you were dealing with. You could have found another way. Instead you chose to send my partner on a certain quest to kill himself." The blond detective noted the telltale twitch of the man's cheek and stepped closer, his gaze sharpening with the intensity of a hawk that had just spotted its prey. "Why?"

The barked out question made the older man flinch, but he otherwise held his ground, stubbornly maintaining his silence.

"You, of all people, knew just how deadly the Hava stone is," Danny continued, growing more and more certain that the real reason behind the sentient's refusal to help was much more sinister than he first imagined and determined to get that reason out into the open no matter what it took.

"You lost your son to it," he pushed on unapologetically, ignoring the flash of hurt in the other man's eyes. "Wasn't **that** the lesson you have been drilling into all of your students – to never _ever _ even think about messing with this stone? That its power was too much for any one of us, no matter how strong we believe ourselves to be? That too many foolish young sentients, like your son, died, thinking they could control it?"

"Daniel–"

"Tell me why," Danny insisted, unrelenting, "and, please, don't insult my intelligence by claiming that there was no other choice."

Sentient Koehler held his former student's gaze for a second longer, then exhaled loudly and shook his head, letting his arms drop to his sides in tired resignation. Flicking a brief and oddly wary gaze at Steve, he offered reluctantly, "There have been some dire warnings from Life Force over the past few weeks."

"Warnings?" Danny cocked his head to the side, lips pursed impatiently. "What kinds of warnings?"

"Something bad is coming. A great evil."

It was like pulling teeth, and if Danny's patience was frayed before, it was rapidly beginning to disintegrate into pitiful shreds. "A great evil," he echoed blandly, glaring at his former professor. "Do you mind explaining what this has to do with the situation at hand?"

The sentient let out another long sigh, cringing as though he had just chewed on a handful of some extremely tart cherries. "This evil... it is connected to you, somehow. To your friend," he nodded in Steve's direction, "and to..."

He trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable, and Danny felt his stomach clench in apprehension as the sentient's gaze wandered over to the water's edge.

"To ... Grace?" he squawked out, his throat suddenly too dry to speak. He felt a shift in the air beside him, a familiar presence near his shoulder – _Steve_, hovering just at the edge of his vision, ready to come to his assistance or restrain him, should the need arise. And he was grateful for that presence, really, he was. The problem was, the gears have already started turning in his mind, and the conclusions they have drawn him to made his head spin.

"Grace's accident... Were you– ... did you have something to do with it?"

"What? No!" Koehler's eyes widened at the implication, and he shook his head, vehemently denying the accusation. "I am a parent myself, Daniel. I would never do something like that."

The blond considered him silently a moment, jaw working in helpless anger. "But you weren't too terribly upset when it happened," he observed, his left cheek twitching at the uncomfortably guilty look that crossed the other man's face. "It was fate playing into your hands, wasn't it. And _that_ is why you weren't gonna do anything to help her. You were hoping the accident would take her out of the picture." _It all made sense now – the uncharacteristic refusal, the awkward excuse Koehler had given Steve. And Steve himself... oh, God..._

Gulping down a wave of throat-clogging nausea, he forced out his final conjecture. "So when Steve called you and begged you for help, probably telling you that he'd be willing to do anything to save my daughter, you saw it as heaven-sent. Decided to kill two birds with one stone!" He let out a sharp, hysterical bark of a laughter. "Literally!"

A hand clasped his shoulder, hard, and Danny realized with a start that he was leaning forward, ready to pounce on the gray-haired instructor. Steve's hand held him in place – chest heaving and fists clenched in blood-boiling fury, while the sentient took a cautious step back, his face grim and lined with regret.

"Daniel, you have to understand," the man defended feebly, wincing at the look of pure murder in his former student's ice-cold eyes. "Life Force was very specific in its warnings. We were doing what we thought was right."

Danny sucked in a sharp and woefully insufficient breath, feeling his whole body tremble with savage fire. "You were going to sacrifice two innocent people – my **family** – based on nothing more than a vague warning of some... **thing** that may or may not even happen? You–" He swung, no longer able to contain himself, and was intensely disappointed when, instead of connecting with the other man's face, his arm was pulled back gently but firmly, intercepted by his ever vigilant partner.

"Shh, Danny, easy, easy," he heard Steve whisper in his ear, the SEAL's arms now encircling him completely in a hug that was somehow both restraining and sheltering. "He's not worth it, babe. Let it go."

"Life Force is never wrong, Daniel," the sentient insisted quietly. "I'm glad things worked out for your friend and your daughter, but you might find yourself regretting that they did."

"Get out!" Danny spat hoarsely, once again trying to break free from his friend's hold and clobber the flustered sentient. "Get out before I do something that I'm really gonna regret."

"Daniel–"

"You _ever_ mess with any one of my family again and I promise you, I'm gonna find you and rip you to fucking shreds!" he growled, red-hot fury surging through him, stealing his breath and clouding his vision. Steve's arms tightened almost imperceptibly around him – like an anchor, preventing him from drowning in a madly swirling ocean of rage. "You understand?"

The sentient nodded wordlessly, his gaze darkening with something akin to regret. His mouth opened, about to say something, but he reconsidered, giving a helpless sigh of resignation. In the next instant he was gone.

Danny felt Steve's hold on him relax somewhat, and he twisted around, latching onto his friend's arms, fingers digging painfully into the tanned skin underneath. The former SEAL winced slightly but didn't let go, giving him those moments to settle his nerves.

"He set you up to die," Danny croaked out, still having a hard time accepting the fact that someone he once considered a mentor would so callously condemn his best friend, his brother to what he knew was certain death. "He was gonna make sure that Grace never recovered and he was gonna have you–" His voice choked off, fingers clenching spasmodically, pushing deeper still and eliciting an involuntary gasp from the other man.

"It's alright, Danny," Steve soothed gruffly, ignoring the painfully burning pressure of his friend's desperate grip. Danny needed him to be his anchor to the here and now, to the relaxing warmth of the setting sun, the soft sand, the lapping waves, Grace's infectious laughter, the presence of their ohana – safe and sound, to get his head out of the what-could-have-beens. And if Danny needed to bore holes through his arms in order to get that anchorage, then so be it.

"I'm right here," he reminded his friend, dipping his head slightly to catch the other man's eye, "and Gracie is fine. It all worked out."

"Thanks to you, Commander."

They jumped at the unexpected interruption, turning to face the newcomer. "Rachel?" Danny frowned, releasing his death grip on Steve's arms and taking a small step in his ex's direction. "What are you doing here?"

She gave an apologetic shrug, looking somehow uncomfortable and vulnerable the way Danny hasn't seen her before. "I wanted to pick up Grace a bit earlier today. Stanley has a small celebration planned for the family tomorrow. We'll be leaving for Maui first thing in the morning. I wanted to make sure she got a good night's sleep."

The Brit paused awkwardly, her gaze shifting over to Steve. "I... I didn't mean to eavesdrop earlier," she began haltingly, wringing her hands nervously before her. "I heard what that man said and I... I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for what I said about you, for what I thought..."

Eyes wide at the unexpected admission, Steve stared at her mutely, his thoughts swirling in confusion. _He misheard her, hasn't he? He must have. Because there was no way that Rachel would be apologizing to him. _But then Rachel was speaking again, and he forced himself to focus, and his breath caught in his throat as a lump the size of Texas swelled inside it at her next words:

"Grace is lucky to have you, Commander. We all are."

* * *

**Well, this marks the end of It's a Kind of Magic Part II. The next installment will be titled "Deliver Me from Evil" (you didn't think this whole Life Force warning the sentient was talking about was just a misunderstanding, were you? wink, wink), and it will be a much darker fic (just to warn you). I hope you tune in**


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